Of Gardens and Confessions
by The Nameless Stranger
Summary: It's 2010. When America invited England to the Paradise Botanic Gardens in the U.S, neither of them knew that the trip would be a big step for their relationship, unspoken truths would be uttered, and that they'd both return completely changed...


-Englaaaaaand!Open uuuuuup!It's meeeee!

''...or the devil...'', Arthur thought. Pretending he didn't hear anything, like, let's say, a young obnoxious American ringing at his doorbell and knocking on his door like a maniac, the Brit made himself comfortable again, nuzzling at his pillow. _Oh god,_ America wasn't discouraged at all that no one was opening him up, so he just kept knocking-_no_-hitting on the door.

''You'd better get up and open the door'',

whispered one of Arthur's fairy friends in his ear, wearing a sympathetic expression on her face.

''I suppose you're righ-''

England groaned, when a loud _**BANG! **_was heard from the hallway, breaking Arthur's sentence in, and leaving him with his face being a mask of horror.

He quickly grabbed a pair of trousers from his drawer, put them on, and run over to the source of the noise.

The curses that soon filled the living room were an indication of what he had just seen before him. His fine oak outdoor was lying half-broken on the floor, and America was standing right above it, grinning with amusement and getting on England's nerves, as usual. Despite his annoyance though, the bright-blond Englishman quite aversed the feeling of Alfred being so eager to meet him...even if that led to a broken door.

''Hey Iggy, whasup?'', said Alfred greeted cheerfully like he hadn't just destroyed another person's property.

''Sorry 'bout the door, I'll send someone to replace it...sometime'', he added with a sheepish smile adorning his handsome features.

Arthur rubbed his temples in pure annoyance.

''And till then I'll have every bloody rump passing by since the door is open?''

This wasn't good for his mental state._ Not at all. _He shot an angry glare at the American, though it lacked the venom it usually had._ Why was that?_Arthur tried to concentrate on reality, as Alfred's smile was slowly fading due to his hostility. Arthur didn't want that smile to fade away.

''Well'', he sighed, ''since you are here, would you like to have a cup of t-em, coffee or something?You look cold standing out there like a fool.''

''Um, what?'' Alfred mumbled, taken by surprise by the sudden change of tone in his ex-mentor's voice. He felt his (so annoying but absolutely adorable, as England thought) smile to be returning to his lips, as he replied happily:

''...yeah, sure thing!''

After some failed attempts to put the broken door back in place, Alfred gave up (no, he just stopped, 'cause heroes never give up), as Arthur made his way to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee for the American and a cup of tea for himself.

''So...'' Arthur said, his perpetual frown present on his pretty face, as he noticed America had sat-more appropriately lied- down on his sofa without permission to, but he continued nonetheless, giving the cup of coffee in Alfred's open hands at the same time, ''what brings _you _of all people in England?''

After refusing a spoonful of sugar kindly offered by the Englishman (who IS a gentleman after all), Alfred answered, his sky-blue eyes shining with childish excitement:

''Wanna come to Florida?''

Arthur nearly chocked on his tea and sputtered:

''You...you mean the State right?''

The American tilted his head in confusion at his companion's reaction:

''Err...yeah, what else could I mean?''

England would rather not answer that one. He just smiled a bit in embarrassment and said:

''Is there a (non idiotic) reason for me to visit...'', he coughed a bit, ''...Florida?''

''Well yeah look old man,'' America continued, flashing one of his 100 Volt smiles again, ''like the freakin' awesome hero I am...'' (Arthur rolled his eyes in exasperation), ''I've been extremely good at work these days, so my- less awesome-boss gave me a couple of days off and...'', he took a breath,

''gave me free tickets to some Paradise Botanic Gardens,-not that I couldn't afford it myself of course...''

''Woah there'', England interrupted the loud American's monologue, ''_you _of _all people _would even consider visiting some Botanic Gardens? And what the hell does this new hobby of yours have to do with me?''

''But Iggy you didn't let me finish...'' Alfred whined, -don't call me with this stupid pet name you git, Arthur muttered- ''and I can bring another one with me and in the Gardens there are some weird British plants and other stuff as well and so I thought-''

''Wait'', Arthur broke in again, ''are you actually telling me that _you _thought _I _might like it and came all the way here to propose this?''

Alfred nodded in excitement, though a tinge of pink was evident on his cheeks. _How much bloody energy did that man have inside him?_

''Well then...''Arthur said, a bit taken aback by the American's uncharacteristic thoughtfulness, ''I don't know''.

Truth is, he was actually touched by this gesture, as he and Alfred spend most of their times together (during World Meetings) fighting and arguing upon the most stupid of things. But how could the former empire not snap at the boy when said boy is proposing the creation of a bloody shield of _hamburgers _as a solution to the Green house effect, for god's sake?Not to mention their-rather dark-past which poor poor England hasn't been able to come over yet?

Shoving his depressing thoughts aside, Arthur asked, with a suspicious look on his face:

''And you or your government have nothing to gain from this?'', and he put his-now empty-cup of tea on the table in front of them with a small _clack._

America's look seemed a bit hurt for a while (a second or so, this failure of a boy must always return to his usual obnoxious self), then nodded triumphantly. ''Nope'', he said.

They looked at each other for a while, forest-green eyes locked on sky-blue, but as soon as the silence started getting awkward, Alfred asked,, a spark of hope evident in his voice:

''So..?''

Arthur on the other hand was a bit lost in thought, and hi (rather big) eyebrows were furrowed.

''And why did you choose _me_? Can't say we get along really well'', he asked with a bit of sarcasm dripping from his voice.

''Well...'', America shifted on his couch, ''I'd either bring Japan or you. And since I know you generally like plants like a girly old man that you are, and Japan is very busy this time of the year, you're like, the best choice.''

''Hmm...I'm surprised you even managed to think that much..'', Arthur replied ironically.

The American groaned a bit instead of answering to the sharp comment and locked his eyes on the floor. He was (for once) doing something _good _for the other man, and he just kept insulting him. And deep inside him, Alfred knew that the interest of Arthur for plants wasn't the only reason for inviting him. Arthur -England- was his best friend, the one he could always turn to, even if their relationship or whatever the hell it was at the moment simply could not be described as 'friendship'.

Then, Alfred suddenly had a flashback of the days long gone even if he inwardly punched himself for it, of his days as a young boy when he was completely alone then of the day he chose England over France who gave light to his existence ans loved him and cared for him and then...and then the Revolution. However dense he was usually looking, and even if he always tried not to care, he could never forget the slender figure of England knelt in the mud in front of him, warm tears shedding from his emerald eyes...

He immediately snapped out of his stupor as the same bright green eyes were staring at him with a look of concern mixed with slight suspicion.

How long had he been musing about the past? The American felt a blush creeping from his neck and onto his cheeks, finally resting on the tips of his ears.

''um, sorry, got destructed'', he said quietly trying to cover the awkward moment and flashed a bright grin which, however, didn't quite reach his eyes.

''don't worry, these things happen'', England replied ans before he could finish his sentence, Alfred asked, his eyes shining with hope again:

''So, you coming or what?''

The Briton remained thoughtful for a moment, then said hesitantly:

''Firstly, 'you coming' is not proper syntax. Secondly...oh all right you bloody git I'm coming.''

What had he just gotten himself into?

The information needed a moment to properly sink in. Then, Alfred let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding ans smiled cheerfully. His reactions after that were like this:

1)He perked up almost immediately.

2)He left his cup of coffee on the table with a loud clack,

3)He sat up and hugged England tightly, earning a surprised gasp from the smaller man who thought: _He...he hasn't hugged me since..some three thousand years ago,when he was little..._

Arthur smiled a bit, as joyful memories of little America flooded his mind. His smile soon turned to a scowl however, as he realised just how _tight_ the grown up Alfred's embrace was.

_Damn that strength of his.._, he thought as he pushed his hands on the boy's chest to shove him away.

The American surprisingly did as he was told for once in his 500 year old life. He let go of Arthur and, (after putting the smaller man down) sank into the sofa once again, this time with a thoughtful expression on his face. This wasn't very reassuring though, as the last time England had seen this look it was just before the boy had merrily proposed to Greece to bring the Parthenon down and put a replica of the Statue of Liberty on the Acropolis instead, insisting ''it would be so much awesomer''. After this, the whole World Meeting room had facepalmed and Alfred found himself with a bowl of rice pudding thrown at his face...act of Heracles.

''So..''England said, straightening his suit, ''when are we going you idiot?''

America suddently came out of his reverie. He honestly didn't expect Arthur to say yes to his invitation, with the older man's perpetual grumpy mood combined with his dislike for everything America-like.

''Ah...yeah'', he answered, perkingup, ''now is a fine time right?''

''Wait. You honestly expect us to catch a plane to the other side of the bloody Atlantic _right now_?''

England asked, his jaw falling slack.

''Yeap!'' A bright smile was plastered on Alfred's face and his blue eyes were glimmering with mirth at Arthur's distress.

''Shall we?''

Arthur could only roll his eyes at this and hope he hadn't just made a bloody huge mistake.

_(2)_

So,after a four hour flight to America (where Arthur insisted on taking an aspirin so that he wouldn't have a bloody uncontrollable clout later on his system, and Alfred was laughing at him calling him a foggy old man), the plane reached the State of Florida.

''What can we say about that place'', Arthur would later say to little Peter, ''it's noisy, arid, with a bunch of overweight American show-offs...not very attractive indeed...''

Well, that was exactly the British man's first impression of the place (since he hadn't been there for almost two thousand years, the last time he had visited America). But let's get back to our weird couple of nations, waking through the airport.

''Awesome place, right England?Not like your moody and foggy London..'', Alfred stated as-a-matter-of-factly, wearing a smug expression on his face.

''It definitely is sunnier, but I would hardly call it appealing...'' replied the English man with the beige shirt sarcastically, with a scowl on his face.

''Mph, whatever...'', said the American as they waited for their (Arthur's) luggage. England sighed inwardly. He knew the day would turn out insufferable if they kept arguing over the silliest of things. What he didn't know though was that the American was thinking the exact same thing, and, even with his infamous incapability of successfully reading the atmosphere, he was sure they would be in each others throats (with the bad meaning) before the end of the day if they carried on like this. Before he could open his moth to give a piece of his mind to the other blond though, said blond's phone rang. Alfred closed his moth again, a bit disheartened. Oh well, he would reopen it soon enough to stuff some burgers in it.

A bit annoyed, Arthur picked up his phone while gesturing to his ex-colony to carry the luggage. _Well, at least let's put some of this strength of his in good use,_ he thought, smiling a bit and watching fondly the clumsy attempts of the American to pick up the suitcase (which he then lifted with ridiculous ease)

_19 (human) years old my arse...he's still a boy..._ , Arthur thought. Realizing the sudden change of the Briton's expression, Alfred stared dumbfounded at him for a moment.

_Was that...a...loving smile..?_

Noticing the stare, Arthur cocked an eyebrow questioningly, then blushed a little and hastily answered the phone.

His expression dramatically changed as on cue, and was replaced by a frown.

''Why are you calling you wine frog?'', was the polite greeting of the blond to a certain Frenchman on the other side of the line.

''Ah, mon Angleterre, pourqui tu es toujours comme ça? C'est ne pas tres charmant...'', Francis pointed out in his (literally his) language, only to make Arthur angrier (...and because he never made any attempts to learn English, the bloody bastard)

''Yeah, and you thing you are ''charmant'' as you say, while trying to molest every single woman or man you see your way?'' Arthur replied, mocking the Frenchman's accent, and getting more irritated by the minute.

In the meanwhile, he and Alfred were leaving the crowded airport of Florida and going outside to take a taxi. The American was unusually quiet while Arthur was talking (well, more appropriately arguing) on the phone; the last thing he needed right now was an (even more) angry Englishman yelling at an equally stubborn Frenchman.

''...Alors, j'ai vulu de te dire que mon cher Mathieu...''

''Ton cher... oh, you mean Canada..?''

''Oui, Canada, ill veut de te voir pour discuter avec toi quant aux meilleurs rapports comerciaux...''

''Oh don't give me the lame excuses France. He could do that by himself of course.''

Arthur let out an exasperated sigh. This discussion was pointless. In fact, every France-evolving discussion was pointless.

At that time, Alfred had already called a taxi and was getting inside, followed by the scowling Englishman.

'' Hm, tu vois...'' here Francis chuckled a bit, ''I wanted to know what exactly you 're doing with America..'', he added, and England could almost imagine the long-haired man winking at him suggestively. It made him sick.

''I'm not doing anything you'd be interested in with that failure of a nation, you pervert!'' Arthur snapped to the snickering Frenchman on the other line and promptly hang up seething with anger.

It was when he noticed the hurt expression on Alfred's sky blue eyes that he realized what he had just done.

But really, what _had _he done? He and America were always insulting each other; it had become more like a habit than something they really meant. However, the Brit was certain about the hurt look he saw on Alfred's face and the way he was now looking absently out of the taxi window was undeniably confirming Arthur's observation.

England sighed quietly. He never meant to hurt the boy, he never did, even if it would be hard for him to admit it even to himself.

''Look Alfred,'' England finally said, using America's human name so as not to become suspicious.

''What?''the American answered, way too quickly, turning his gaze from a maple tree outside the window (witch faintly reminded him of something or someone, who knows), to a random spot above the taxi driver's head, deciding it was suddently extremely interesting.

''I...'' he trailed off. What was he trying to bloody apologise for? Had he done something wrong for god's sake? And if he had, what the sod did he care?

!

America lowered his gaze.

''...did not quite mean what I said, you know what the hell happens when I talk to that idiotic frog, France!'' England continued from where he had stopped, a nearly unnoticeable tinge of pink covering his pale cheeks at what he had just said. Frankly, Arthur always found it hard and embarrassing to show his feelings, even when they were purely amical.

Alfred glanced up from that spot on the floor where he had locked his gaze at and snapped, a clear tinge of irritation and -was that anger? :

''Mph, yeah whatever old man, you always thought I was a failure''.

He took a breath and, turning his head to look outside the window once again, he added:

''And y'know what? I should have come with Tony here. At last _he_ knows when I'm just trying to be friendly with-oh whatever, forget about it''.

The scowl he wore wasn't pretty at all, and neither was Arthur's. Said Briton just let out an aggravated puff of air and leaned back on the taxi seat crossing his arms over his chest. He wisely didn't comment on America's last point; How was he supposed to come to Florida with a bloody alien for god's sake?

After a moment of uncomfortable silence where the only sounds were the beeping of the machine and the soft tune coming from the driver's radio, England took the initiative and said slowly:

''I just don't know what bothers you so much. It's not that I haven't insulted you before, and it's certainly not the first time we've argued over something. What's so different now?''

He hoped that would make the lad give him a piece of his mind.

For the next few minutes, neither of them spoke, Arthur sulking at the corner, and Alfred playing with a small Jedi figure to keep his hands occupied. Finally, he said:

''Every one blames me for being dense and never understanding the atmosphere. Look what's going on now''.

Ouch. The polite approach didn't quite work.

Arthur was frozen; America _of all people/nations _was being _sarcastic? _The Briton even started considering the possibility of a demon having possessed Alfred and making him talk like that, instead with childish retorts as usual. In that case, he should get his magic book out, and, for the first time in centuries, England was speechless.

However, the moment the proud country opened his mouth to retort, the taxi stopped on it's tracks and the driver asked America if it was okay to stop. Alfred just nodded, paid the man and got off the yellow taxi.

Seeing the boy retreating, Arthur quickened his pace, grabbed the luggage, and, after mumbling a quick thanks to the driver he tried to keep up with the taller blond.

''Hey'', he said, panting a little, once reaching Alfred, catching him by the shoulder. The American flinched a little, but did nothing to shove the other away.

''Let's just...forget about it like you said, and try to make the best of this bloody trip...'', Arthur told him, and kept on staring until he saw the ghost of a smile appear on the ash-blond's face.

''OK then! Let's go to the awesome hotel where my boss booked us rooms!'' America said, finding his old self again. He was very happy about Arthur proposing a truce, 'cause it is a world wide fact that it is hard for the older man to back down, even for his own good some times. Taking England by the hand, he started marching towards the four-star hotel, Arthur mumbling a not-so-suitable-for-youngsters line of curses under his breath as he did so.

_'Definitively a huge mistake...'_

_(3)_

As soon as they got into the large hotel, the first thing they admired was the combination of luxury and...cosiness it seemed it was offering. Both men and especially Arthur sighed deeply in relief as they were relieved by the outside hell-like heat and indulged into the reviving air-conditioned atmosphere.

...All the while Arthur was really trying not to be thinking about the explanation Francis gave for the heat and dampness that characterises the State's climate. _No one_ should talk to that frog. He corrupts innocent minds (not that England's mind was ever innocent to begin with...)

The hotel's walls had a welcoming beige colour and the floor was made off steady, dark-brown wood, that Arthur suspected would be oak, which was giving a cozy feeling to the place. Pictures of some older US presidents were hanging on the largest wall, framed by ribbons and flowers.

''Always the show off America...'', England muttered to himself. Alfred on the other hand was staring at everything with wide eyes, making Arthur softly giggle at the face the boy was making.

The hotel's receptionist was a tall man in a suit which made contrast with his tanned, slightly orange skin. His whole demeanour seemed extremely neat and reserved, but on the same time he was...eating a huge cheeseburger. England resisted to sudden urge to just cover cover his face with his palm and simply rolled his eyes in exasperation._ Oh god...America's people really look like him in so many ways._

''Hey!'' Alfred said cheerfully to the receptionist. As on cue, said person's eyes widened and he quickly put the burger under the desk with a -let's get to-business expression on his face.

''M-mister America!It's such an honour to have you here!''

The man's eyes were wide open and he didn't try to hide his owe that his own country was at the hotel he was working at.

''W-what can I do for you? he stuttered.

America was clearly enjoying all the attention he was getting (the bloody brat) and just chirped cheerfully:

''I have a room booked for me and the old foggy England here...''

Arthur's reaction was to smack him on the back of the head, whereas the poor receptionist's jaw fell slack at the realization that the personification of England itself being in front of him as well. A dark-skinned security guard next to the boofe looked at them, confused, raising his black sunglasses.

''Er y-yeah, j-just a minute..'' the man with the short brown hair stuttered as he nervously searched through the hotel's agenda.

''Hey, relax a bit, we've got all time..'', Arthur said, seeing the poor man's distress, leaning a bit forward from where he had been standing, earning a half-heartened smile from the receptionist who seemed to chill out a bit after that.

What the Brit didn't see though was the the gentle smile Alfred sent his way after Arthur's nice gesture. And it wasn't often that he smiled like that.

_If he cares a bit about my people, isn't it logical that he doesn't dislike me so much after all?_, the blond thought, took the keys from the receptionist and headed to the rooms, followed by Arthur.

_(4)_

So, after a short stop at the hotel's mini bar and a friendly game of Monopoly that followed (which ended up with Arthur calmly sipping his tea, a small grin plastered on his face, while Alfred was desperately trying to pay him off so as not to embarrassingly lose and end up being scolded about his lack of intellect), the two nations got in America's Jeep and headed towards their primary destination.

The ride was longer than the American expected it to be due to the traffic jam on the roads. And that of course meant he had to admit his cruel fate when he found himself stuck with Arthur foe about an hour without doing anything. He had it coming though. And, to make matters worse, it was noon and the sun was high in the sky, making even the rocks beneath it melt. Frankly, sunburns and heat weren't something that could put America off so easily, but England didn't seem to be at such an ease, if his deep scowl was telling anything about how the Briton felt.

He was an ex-pirate though, and he could endure much more than the climate of a damn American State!

Generally however things weren't so bad, as both men were tired and weren't in the mood to argue about everything and everyone. So, they instead started to chit-chat about idle things like the weather, or some of the new movies America made.

''Admit it, all the good bands are British'', Arthur said teasingly just before they enter the Gardens, having a smug look on his pretty face.

At this time they had both survived the man-devouring traffic jams and had gotten off America's Jeep.

An adorable pout made its way to Alfred's face. Taking it as a (lame) reply, England continued:

''Well, for example the Beatles,Pink Floyd, the Rolling Stones,Muse,Coldplay...''

''Lady Gaga is American'', Alfred retorted. The glare Arthur sent his way could easily rival the one of Severus Snape thoroughly.

''You consider this failure of a singer _good_?'' That's-''

Arthur never said the word ''preposterous'', as they were both rendered speechless from what they saw and immediately all the singing-evolving discussion was ended.

Beyond the sigh saying ''Welcome to Florida's Botanical Gardens'', a world of fantasy was being unfolded before them.

Colourful flowers of all kinds and shapes were adorning the pathways between (and beneath) the various trees that were from Mediterranean to tropical ones like huge palm trees, each one at their special environment. Butterflies and squirrels were all over and Arthur could have sworn he saw a little fairy behind a white lilac tree.

I_...i guess it isn't as bad as I thought a trip with America would be, _England thought, and a small smile lightened up his features. He was busy examining every nook and cranny of the place. Alfred was (foe once) right, the green-eyed man was extremely interested in all kinds of flora, an interest he picked during his pirate days when he had long voyages to tropical and mysterious places.

America on the other hand, made sure to let the Gardens' employees know they had arrived and soon joined the fascinated-looking Arthur. A wide grin was adorning his features at seeing his ex-paternal figure so captivated by something he himself had done. (Of course his smile may or may not be the result of the Burger World he had seen earlier and at the thought of what he would do once he walked in.) If that is indeed the case, god help us all.

_(5)_

Neither of the men realised the evening had came, as they had had lost the track of time in that beautiful place. Also, the raid at the Burger World had been completed, so they were both satisfied.

On the west side of the Gardens, England was taking photos of some blood-red roses, and thoughts were constantly flooding his mind.

_I'm frankly...enjoying myself here. And I must admit America is so bloody different today, more...friendly and not his usual obnoxious self. Waaait a minute...maybe he things we're on a...date?_

Arthur blanched at the thought and almost dropped his camera.. _NO._ _That was completely ridiculous. _The green-eyed man inwardly punched himself for his preposterous thought, and hoped that wouldn't be the case.

He was about to turn around and go get Alfred from the Burger World he nonetheless would be devouring that bloody greasy food of his, when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. The lad startled and jumped a little, instinctively turning around quickly, with a rather frightened look in his face. The, his expression softened, as the owner of that warm hand was no other than Alfred, now looking at him with bright blue, puppy-dog eyes.

America's expression changed almost immediately, turning into an obnoxiously smug one, and, removing his hand, he told:

''What Iggy, are you afraid of good ol 'me?'', he said with a mischievous grin. England felt his blood boil in irritation, but he just said, with a dismissive gesture of his hands :

''Of course not you idiot. You just surprised me, that's all'', and he folded his arms in front of his chest.

''Heh, OK. I'm not gonna hurt ya and y'know it..'', Alfred replied with a smile, shrugging his shoulders absent-mindedly at the same time.

Arthur felt a warm feeling in his chest, but, shoving it away, he said:

''Yeah, like you didn't hurt Kiku, your best friend with those god damn atomic bombs''

He immediately regretted for not thinking before acting, and he just wanted to be devoured by a huge krayt dragon at the point.

Alfred was a bit confused by the others suddently white -as a paper-face and lips pressed on one another as though they wanted to take back the things they said and put them into his mouth again, and those exact things needed a moment to properly sink in.

Then, to Arthur's horror, America's grin faded away like a dried river and his face darkened, and his brows furrowed as he was trying to form a coherent sentence. He seemed as he was about to cry all of a sudden, and his oddly glimmering eyes were confirming just that.

''I...i..you know _I _never wanted that!My-my boss...''

Arthur's hands were on his mouth and he was trying to find the courage to make things right again, to glue back the pieces of that cheerful façade he himself mercilessly had broken without a second thought.

''I...i know, You just got on my nerves, that's all, I didn't mean-''

''You seem to do that a lot lately, don't you think?''

Alfred's expression had dramatically changed from pitiful to purely enraged, and he gave Arthur a not so in character icy glare that the green-eyed man felt like it was piercing through him.

But no, he would not brake. England was as stubborn as any nation could be, and he was bend on making things right. So he choked out:

''I...know you've been forced time and time again by your bosses to do all kinds of malicious deeds, all of us have...look, I didn't mean it...''

_Oh, what's with the confessions today?_

Alfred took a step closer, leaning above the smaller nation, saying icily:

''If you didn't mean it, you shouldn't have said it''

_I'm done with you, _the ash-blond thought, and he broke the thick tension between them by just turning on his heels and leaving.

Arthur was frozen on the spot, glaring at the retreating tall figure of America. Two forces were battling inside his mind, the one saying to get over his egoism and run after Alfred, explaining everything, making things right, and the other telling him not to care, because after all America was the one who had broken his heart _that _day, who _always _broke his heart one way or another, who had then left him and was now leaving. But that's the past, and if one man is stuck in the past, chooses to forget but not forgive, it swallows him whole in the end.

The battle against his self was won, his choice was made.

_Stop lingering to the past boy. Time has come to make things right, _he thought, and he tried once again to catch up with Alfred.

_(6)_

Once England had reached the place with the gift shops and fast foods (where else would America have gone to, anyway?), he perked up and walked to his ex-colony who was standing still next to the gift shop. _Weird_, the honey-blond man thought.

Once Alfred noticed his presence, he quickly caught him by the arm and Arthur looked up at him questioningly. The way the boy was holding him...it was as if _protecting _him. England was taken aback by the lad's angry and determined expression, and the way he was clutching his fist threateningly worried the other nation, causing him to finally look around and locate the source of America's anger.

He did.

And he froze.

People with frightened expressions had their eyes locked at a bunch of black-clothed men, the one

of them holding a gun on his left hand, pointing it at them threateningly. He was the tallest person in the gang and seemed moody and dangerously unstable.

_Greeeat. Bloody great. Now they were actually being robbed and threatened by a psychopath and his lackeys._

Alfred seemed to be getting considerably angrier by the minute.

_We are outnumbered, the police is nowhere to be seen and they've got guns. But they aient gonna take the United States and the United Kingdom down, no sir!_

With these thoughts in his mind, America suddently leaned down, whispering into Arthur's ear:

''Why don't we go kick their asses?''

The Briton inhaled soundly. ''They have guns, whereas yours was taken at the entrance. What, we're gonna bring them down punching th-''

He didn't manage to finish his sentence, when a bunch of the Gardens' security guards (where had they disappeared to anyway?) came out from behind trees out of the blue and circled the criminals, yelling at them to give up.

Believing it was all over, the people had looks of relief on their faces since they weren't liquidized, and no one realized the most subtle of the thieves grabbing a little girl, pointing a gun at it.

''Get the hell outta here or I blow her brains out!''

A moment of death silence followed and the whimpers of both the child and her mother were the only sounds that could be heard.

suddently, England's eyes flasheddangerously .

_They've gone too far. Time to show these fat American dolts a couple of moves..._

America was startled by the Brit violently freeing his arm from Alfred's grip and was even more surprised when the man leapt forward, and, with an impressive move, reminiscent of his old pirate days he punched the criminal on the face and quickly caught the child in his arms, finally putting it down next to her terrified mother.

_Okay, that's not right. The old man is rescuing children from evil villains and the hero does nothing?_

With that (idiotic) thought, America stepped forward, standing defensively next to the Brit who looked up at him with a smirk.

Seeing America joining the smaller blond, the security guards found their (always) lost courage and attacked the gang whose members started shooting at all directions, realizing they were suddently outnumbered.

While Alfred was knocking the criminals out with his strong punches, England started whispering an ancient curse of weakness under his breath, trying to concentrate through the mess and aim directly at a blond man with a colt, sneaking in the corner. A thunderbolt of lighting broke out of nowhere and swiftly hit the gunner, who fell unconscious on the grass in no time. He would later wake up in jail, and no one would believe that a warlock had attacked him.

The Gardens were now empty with people (visitors) and it seemed the fight was over, and the good guys had won once again, as Alfred thought. The criminals were being ''escorted'' to the police cars, shouting curses to everyone around them and Arthur was watching things from a distance.

But all was not over. A sudden glimpse caught Alfred's eye and the tallest of the criminals was suddently in front of him yielding his gun, having a psychopathic smile on his chopped lips. America raised his fist in front of him protectively, when suddently he felt extreme pain on his left shoulder, causing him to flinch.

''It must be the exhausting...'' he thought and with a growl, he punched the madman who wound up sprawled on the grass, several meters away.

It was then that Alfred realised what had happened, when he felt the familiar metallic taste of blood on his lips.

His blood.

Once he heard the gunshot, England looked around and his eyes landed on a mass lying on he floor. And he gasped, his eyes wide open.

There on the floor, shot twice, sprawled on the grass now dark with his blood was his boy, his little brother, his enemy, his friend, his greatest joy and failure, gasping for breath.

_America._

With tears threatening to fall from his emerald eyes, he marched to where Alfred was lying, breathless and still.

''Great way to die...being a hero...'' the boy weakly muttered to no-one in particular, feeling colder by the minute and gradually losing contact with his environment. Said environment was now a warm embrace, and the last things Alfred felt before falling out of pugnaciousness were tears falling on his tanned cheek and heard someone desperately calling:

''What the fuck are you dimwits staring at, get a bleeding ambulance!''

And the cries faded as he finally indulged in the realm of dreams.

_(7)_

Arthur shifted nervously on the hospital chair. He jumped a little when the doctor came out of America's cubicle and rushed to ask her about the boy's condition. There was no need for that, really, because the woman was coming straight to him; the other nations (hopefully) hadn't learned the news yet, and England was the only one there.

''Mr. Kirkland...'', the doctor greeted the wary man and eyed him inquisitively, as he seemed almost as tired as the other blond lying on the hospital bed inside the room next to them. Arthur nodded at her politely, being the gentleman he was, even if he was practically seething with worry.

''Mr. Jones has lost a great amount of blood due to the gunshot...'', the doctor continued and Arthur folded his arms in front of his chest to calm himself, ''but because of the fact that you are nations, it's impossible for him to...go that way ''.

The brunette smiled encouragingly and England let out a sigh of relief.

''That was close...'' he muttered to himself, briefly closing his eyes. When he spoke again, a minute later, it was to ask the doctor:

''So...can I see him?''

The small woman gave him a smile and nodded in agreement.

''Sure. Although he is sleeping right now''.

Arthur thanked her and then slowly, hesitantly , opened the door of Alfred's cubicle, where he was lying, shot, close to death some minutes ago...

_Damn, I shouldn't be thinking like this. The brat is going to be alright, _the slender man thought and walked in the room.

Even if he had thought otherwise previously, frankly, Alfred lying on the bed like this was a rather...pretty sight.

The boy's expression was serene, and the way the sunrays infiltrating through the window were landing on his face made him seem comfortably unworldly.

_At least he's not in pain..._the older man thought and smiled a little.

Alfred's glasses were neatly folded on the nightstand next to the bed and England realised this was the first time after the boy's revolution that he was seeing him without his glasses on.

The way he looked without them, so childish, brought back memories, so many memories, that made Arthur's heart ache painfully when looking at the slumbering face of America.

The forgotten door behind the small man closed with a 'bang'. England almost jumped at the ungodly noise it made and the exact same noise made America suddently snap his eyes open, inappropriately waking up.

His sky-blue eyes searched around the room inquisitively and finally landed on Arthur sitting on a wooden chair next to his bed. He shot the honey-blond man a small smile.

England inwardly sighed in relief and returned that weakly excuse of a smile. It seems he couldn't believe Alfred was okay until he saw it with his own eyes.

Said emeralds locked on bright cerulean orbs.

''Good morning Sleeping Beauty'', England said wryly.

''Heh, I'd prefer to be referred to as ''The Wounded Hero of Battle''...not that I ain't a beauty of course'', Alfred said jokingly, raising his eyebrows and smiling.

Arthur rolled his eyes. ''Yeah yeah, you little brat. You know _I _knocked out more of those bloody failures of criminals than you did''

''Not true!'' Alfred cried, raising his back from the bed at the same time, so as to have a better eye contact with England. His efforts proved fruitless however, as he soon lied down again, flinchat the sudden pain the movement caused.

''Watch it you dolt, you'll destroy your stitches'', Arthur scolded him, with a worried expression on his handsome face. A comfortable silence followed, England making sure America hadn't started bleeding again and Alfred chewing on his lower lip, having a hesitant look on his face.

''Hey Arthur...'' he started and watched England's surprised expression at the use of his real name,

''I want to talk to ya about something important'', he finished, and looked away, now chewing the inside of his cheek.

It's funny how this boy always seems hungry.

England on the other hand was genuinely surprised at seeing America suddently act so serious and..._shy_?Since when had he seen _him _acting shy?

_I'm not sure I want to hear this...,_Arthur thought, but said nonetheless:

''Sure, go on. Just don't say something evolving burgers, as usual''

''Heh, okay. Now, seriously Arthur...'' America took a deep breath,

''I wanna talk about the Revolution''.

England felt his heart ache.

_So that's why he's being all serious and hesitant...this isn't going to end well, this isn't-_

''Look, I'm honestly not in the mood to fight right now'', he said, looking down, and his throat suddently felt dry.

Alfred's eyes went wide open.

''No, no, I don't want us to fight, I just...'' the man trailed off, lost for words.

_It's now or never soldier,_ a little voice in his head chirped and gave him courage, ''I want us to get over it and...move on. I just want us to be friends again Arthur, real friends.''

_W-what is he talking about now?_

And at that moment, in that depressing little hospital room, both men's walls were brought down and they could finally look at each others eyes and find truth in their depths, and hope and love, things they would not admit even if they felt they needed to, all those centuries.

Seeing England's lack of reply and blank expression, Alfred continued, slight desperation tinging his voice:

''I...i think it's time we're honest to each other. You must know I don't regret seeking and gaining my Independence..''

A sad glare from Arthur's direction made him momentarily trail off, but his self-confidence came back full-force again, ''...but there was no need for a war...you hurt me, I hurt you, there was no need...we couldn't be brothers anymore England, but we can still be friends...''

At last, Alfred got it out of his system. Because, even if he seemed not to care all those years whether Arthur drunk himself to death on the 4th of July, or that he always had a heartbroken expression on his face when the Revolution was brought up, or so many other things he pretended not to care about, he honestly did, each and every time those events occurred. Now...he did his part. It's up to Arthur to decide what's next.

In the small room, the tension radiating from the two men in the room was so thick it could be cut with a knife. The silence was nearly unbearable.

_He...he wants me to forget everything, all the pain I've felt when he left me, and the pain I still feel like it's...nothing?_

_But there's no need to forget...just...get over it and..._

_move on._

_Isn't this what I've wanted all along?_

_For the pieces of my heart to glue back again?_

It could just be Alfred's words. Or it could be the emotions he had been holding inside him for so long. Pain and Rejection.

It could be both of those things that made England to suddently break into tears. After so long, he was crying again, again, for the exact opposite reason he had done so that day on the battlefield, when his heart was torn apart and stumped upon.

Quiet sobs emitting from the smaller man caught Alfred's attention, who had his face buried in his palms, and he looked up at Arthur, confused.

_England was...crying for something he had done, again. He wouldn't let that happen, not any more._

''No, Arthur, don't cry, you...you dislike me so much after all?''

Arthur looked up at him, an unexpected wry smile on his quivering lips, and he said softly, like he used to when Alfred was smaller:

''My boy...how can you believe that still? My tears are only for you...haven't you seen that?''

A small smile made its way to Alfred's face and lighted up his eyes. Arthur swiftly wiped the tears off his cheeks and hesitantly raised his hand and ruffled the boy's sand-blond locks. America leaned to the tender touch, like he had when he was still England's colony.

''It's a funny thing though...'', Arthur stated after a minute, ''how we both manage to say such things when one of us is injured...''

He still couldn't quite forget the last Grim Ripper incident.

''Heh...'' Alfred replied, laughing softly, ''that's us..!''

''Right...that's us..'' England agreed with a smile.

_ ...Oh what good is it to live, with nothing left to give,_

_forget, but not forgive,not loving all you see...?_

_The streets you're walking on, a thousand houses long,_

_Well that's where I belong, and you belong with me,_

_not swallowed in the sea..._

_And you belong with me,_

_not swallowed in the sea..._

''Say England...what would happen if I died?'', Alfred asked, putting his favourite bomber jacket on,

''Except that the world would finally get rid of your existence?'' Arthur replied sarcastically but playfully.

''Hmm...yeah'' the taller man said with one of his usual annoying smiles. The honey-blond walked towards the door, opening it,

''Oh shut up. You'll be your usual obnoxious self in no time'', he said. Rolling his eyes.

The doctor and nurses outside the cubicle were clearly surprised with the laughter emitting from the inside.

/ :) /

**Epilogue**

On the next World Meeting, everything was normal. In other words, the nations were all arguing and no work was done.

More precisely:

Italy was hanging by a pissed off Germany's arm demanding pasta or else he'd have a breakdown, while the blond man was trying to bring order (to no avail), Switzerland was threatening a certain bearded blond with his gun, because said blond was winking to the gunner's sister suggestively, Russia was smiling,creeping everyone out as usual, Spain was trying to hug Romano yelling:

''You're so cute Lovi! Just like-''

''a tomato, yeah we know,we know...'',

Prussia was declaring to the world just how awesome he is (heeey, this guy is not even a country anymore), Hungary was chatting quietly with Austria (and was definitely the reason for the poor man's prominent blush), Poland was saying something about how, like, totally cool his ponies were, Hellas was fighting with Turkey, while Japan was seriously thinking whether to act or not.

Those were not the only countries attending, but hell, you got the picture.

The only thing that was extremely out of the ordinary that day at the World meeting was, well...America and England. Everyone had noticed by now that Arthur was smiling more now and wasn't as sarcastic as usual (to Alfred at least) and America wasn't that jackass anymore.

As for his foolishness, well that can't be helped.

The two English-speaking countries were generally quite _getting along_, for the obvious reason they were friends now.

And...it is true. Every time England has cried, it's for him, Alfred F. Jones. And it means a lot. And the most important thing is that they have both been forgiven for the past by each other, and can finally move on. As equals, this time.

Of course, Francis would describe it all as sexual tension.

But he's just a perverted frog.

Right?

The end

Title: Of Gardens and Confessions

Genre: Friendship/General

Staring: England/Arthur Kirkland – America/Alfred F. Jones

Author: The Nameless Stranger

-Characters by the guy who owns Hetalia Axis Powers,

Lyrics by Coldplay.


End file.
